Walking Barefoot

A poem dedicated to Lucy and her picture.

Shedding my shoes, slipping out of my socks,
I embarked on a journey over small jagged rocks.
With each poke, each prick, every last pinch,
I stifled a cry, refusing to flinch.
I pressed on despite feet, bruised, bloody and sore,
But soon found myself hurting, down on all fours.
Diffusing such discomfort seemed really quite clever
Until my knuckles and knees were rubbed raw like leather.
I was only half way, half the pain still remained,
When I threw in the towel and took a much needed break.
It was then that I saw it, just an arm-length's apart
A fist-sized gray stone, shaped much like a heart.
Just seconds before giving in, accepting defeat,
An emblem of love lay just at my feet.
Tracing its edges with my outstretched hand,
I forgot the sting I felt and released a tearful laugh.
With newfound motivation and strength to restart,
I fired a fervent prayer from the depths of my heart.
Jumping to my feet I continued on my path,
when suddenly my afflictions didn't seem all that bad.
Those brief moments of anguish, thoughts of giving up,
Were eclipsed by a reminder of the power of love.